


Shed My Armor

by Auggusst



Series: The Soldier And The Scientist [29]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Anxiety, Depression, Feelings, Getting Help, Guilt, M/M, Protective Steve Rogers, Suicidal Thoughts, Supportive Steve Rogers, Tony Stark Feels, admitting problems, from battle not from self harm, injured Tony Stark, post Age of Ultron, relationship strain thanks to outside influences, self hatred
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-30
Updated: 2019-08-30
Packaged: 2020-10-02 00:15:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20444606
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Auggusst/pseuds/Auggusst
Summary: When Tony gets hurt, he naturally refuses to do what's best to help himself get better. Steve confronts him about it in his lab. He's unprepared for the direction the conversation heads in, but takes it in stride, and comforts his boyfriend. Based on some fanart I drew.





	Shed My Armor

**Author's Note:**

> This one got kinda heavy, and I apologize. I also noticed just how much of their timeline is unexplored. I only have two fics that take place in 2016! This one is late 2015, but yeah. I'll work on some more fics to more evenly spread out the series ;)

“Tony,” the blond began, exasperation in his voice. He ran a hand through his hair after dropping his helmet by the door. He unzipped the top of his suit, tossed it over on the nearby workbench.

“FRIDAY, bring up blueprint I-45. Give me an exploded view and zoom to 50% on the left side of the helm.”

“Tony,” Steve tried again, trailing behind his partner as Tony moved through his workshop, fiddling on his tablet and reaching out here and there to adjust something on his holographic screens. He was walking slower than usual, but with determination, and didn’t spare the soldier a glance.

Steve’s frustration grew quickly, warmed up beneath his skin. He hated being ignored in any situation, but right now he didn’t have the patience for it. “Tony this is ridiculous—you should be in bed!” he offered, trying to catch the brunet’s elbow.

“No,” Tony replied, tugging away from his grasp. He focused on his work once more. “Don’t give me that shit, I’m fine.”

“You’re _not_!” Steve grit out, reluctant to give up. He couldn’t. With each moment his heart clenched a little more, well-founded concern seeping into his bones. Here Tony was, not twenty minutes after a half-finished check-over by emergency personnel, ready to throw himself into work again. He hadn’t even changed out of his undersuit, and his cuts were only hastily cleaned and bandaged. He wouldn’t let anyone inspect him properly, demanded Steve take him home or he would fly his damaged suit instead. Steve, too relieved in the moment that he had even _lived_, conceded.

When he closed his eyes he could still see it—Tony tumbling out of the air, not for the first time in his life, his systems being knocked out by a well placed EMP. The panic and helplessness that filled Steve as he watched Iron Man dive head-first into a pile of rubble was singular, all-encompassing. A plume of dust rose from where he fell, and the blond feared the worst.

Steve had crossed the distance of the battlefield within seconds, his shield abandoned at his side, and when he crouched over his partner’s body and ripped off his scratched-up face mask, his heart almost stopped until FRIDAY announced that Tony was only unconscious, and not dead. Still, Tony looked bad. There was a large gash on his cheek, and another on his forehead, and a few bruises here and there already forming from where his face undoubtedly bashed into the interior of his helmet upon impact. He wasn’t sure of the damage beneath the rest of the brunet’s suit. Luckily Sam, Natasha and Wanda got the battle situation under control while Steve rushed to his boyfriend’s side.

“Oh god—“ Steve had wheezed, fingers brushing ever so gently over his skin. “Tony, honey please—wake up. Can you hear me? Come on,” he whispered with urgency. He slipped a hand under the scientist’s neck, cradled his head. He had felt his heartbeat in his ears, a lump in his throat. It wasn’t the first time he was afraid of losing Tony, and certainly wouldn’t be the last, but that didn’t make it hurt any less, and didn’t make him feel any braver. The fact that Tony got hurt at all made him feel like a failure. He couldn’t take it, couldn’t imagine what would happen if he held a corpse in his arms right now instead of just an unconscious Tony. His imagination started to get the better of him, started to put the worst images in his head. His hands shook around the suit, and his breath came out in anxious puffs.

It took a few moments, but finally, Tony’s eyes had fluttered and opened briefly, looking around and settling on Steve’s face. The blond let out a sigh of relief as Tony groaned softly.

“I must’ve died and gone to Heaven,” the brunet joked, words a little slurred, dazed expression on his face. There wasn’t much humor in his tone though. It was obviously meant to settle Steve’s nerves.

Leave it to Tony to make a joke after almost dying, though. Steve huffed in reply, shook his head. “You’re going to Hell for scaring me like that.” He brushed the brunet’s bangs away from the cut on his forehead, so they wouldn’t get bloody.

The scientist’s eyes drooped, and he knit his brows. “Ow,” he replied as the blond’s fingers grazed his sensitive skin. “You’ll have to carry me there then, I don’t…I don’t think I can walk straight right now.” He shut his eyes, tried willing away the dizziness.

Steve instead, had carried him to the medical crew, suit and all, because the brunet refused to take it off. He made a fit with the medical crew fawning over him while the rest of the team finished up, and refused the full exam, raised his voice when Steve went for the manual release hatch on the hip of the suit. Not even Steve’s coaxing could get him to remove his armor and be inspected. Steve couldn’t understand, but there was a look in the brunet’s eyes that he recognized as anxious, as pained.

The blond couldn’t push him after that, no matter how much he wanted to get him proper care.

Tony didn’t seem to calm down until they completed their short ride home to the compound. It passed in silence, which Steve hated, but when he took in the grim expression on the brunet’s face, he couldn’t find the words to make it better. It was a feeling he was becoming familiar with lately. It was difficult to reach out, to admit his problems, and the same was said for Tony.

Things were sort of tense, and neither were doing particularly well mentally. There was a rift between them, and the team in general, and the rest of the world too. They were stressed, easily frustrated, despondent on occasion. The nightmares which were normally kept at bay occurred more often as well, which led to Tony staying up more, and Steve in turn arguing until he managed to bring the scientist back to bed. He hoped Tony would at least take it easy in this situation, despite never having before.

Steve’s hopes were dashed though. Once inside their home, Tony shed his armor, and more or less limped directly to his workshop before Steve could say much else. 

Steve didn’t accept that. He followed the scientist into the workshop, determined to get him to see sense. If he could, he would destroy that damn workshop. Tony always fell back on it when there was a problem, even locked himself inside a few times. But Steve wasn’t much better. When he had a serious problem, he hid in the gym, took out his frustration on a handful of punching bags. Neither of them could handle things like adults.

“You’re _not _fine,” Steve prodded again. He wouldn’t lose this argument. Either Tony could tell him exactly what was wrong, and why he insisted on risking his wellbeing to fiddle around with his designs, or Steve would find a way to get him out of the workshop whether he wanted to or not. Why was the brunet so difficult? Luckily for Steve, Tony had reached his desk, and with Steve standing behind him, he was essentially boxed in.

The brunet glanced down at his surroundings for a moment, obviously realizing where he was, but made no show of it. He continued inputting information on the screen in front of him.

Steve sighed once more, clenched his fists. “Please, for once just do what’s best for you and get in the damn bed.”

Tony merely shook his head, muttered more directions to his AI. He typed in a few numbers and booted up some programming that Steve couldn’t decipher. He didn’t care to at the moment. He was half tempted to physically lift the scientist out of the room and into their bed. He hoped it wouldn’t come to that though. He hoped Tony could see sense. Unfortunately, he didn’t.

“I’m not going to bed,” Tony answered finally, irritation in his voice. “I’ve got to fix it.”

“Fix what?” Steve demanded, brows knit. Was he insane? The scientist had a penchant for being ridiculous, but right now it was getting on Steve’s last nerve. Tony had always been reckless, but it just seemed to intensify after Ultron. He pushed himself more and more, despite the blond’s protests, and he wasn’t sure what to do about it.

“Everything,” the brunet replied, switching tabs on his screen. His raised hand shook a little, and he took a deep breath. “It’s gotta be… I gotta get it to—“

“You’ve got to get _yourself_ better,” the soldier interrupted firmly.

Tony hesitated for just a second, but shook his head. “That doesn’t—This is more important.”

Steve stared at him incredulously for a moment, before his emotions boiled over. Tony had pushed him to the edge once more, like so many times in the past, and more and more often in the passing weeks. Couldn’t the brunet understand his concern? Didn’t he realize Steve only wanted what was best for him?

“Listen to me!” he said, spinning the scientist around firmly by his waist. Tony let out a groan at the touch, face twisted in pain, and the blond’s grip relaxed immediately. His heart skipped a beat. Of course there were probably injuries beneath the tight fabric of his undersuit. Of course Tony refused to let them check him out particularly for that reason. Steve exhaled sharply through his nose, but his anger receded into misery, into sympathy. He stroked the scientist’s sides softly, trying to soothe the pain he just agitated.

Tony let out shaky breaths as Steve looked down at him, felt his throat tighten. He placed his hand on Steve’s chest, torn between pushing him away or clinging to him for stability. He turned his gaze to the floor in shame. For once, he didn’t have a response, didn’t want to argue.

“Tony, sweetheart…_You’re_ what’s important. You. Not your suits, not your work, or whatever delusions are running through that thick head of yours right now.”

“You don’t _get _it,” his partner sighed, shaking his head. “I just… I have to fix it. I have to do better.”

“What happened today wasn’t your fault. You were attacked. There was nothing you could do,” Steve replied, pulling him ever closer.

“Not just today! Every day. Everything I do is…I’ve hurt so many people. I keep thinking that maybe if I try hard enough, maybe I can make something _good_, something worthwhile. But everything I touch turns to dust, gets corrupted. I’m…”

“That’s not true, Tony. You’ve done so much good. You’ve helped millions. You’ve saved people, you’ve saved me,” Steve replied with a shake of his head. He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Did Tony really feel that way? Why had this come on all of a sudden?

“And how many have died in their place? How—how many have I murdered?” the brunet’s voice wavered, and his hand gripped Steve’s t-shirt. His lips twitched in pain, and glancing down, the blond could see a little cut on one of his fingers. The medical staff must have missed it with all of Tony’s fidgeting.

Steve swallowed hard, eyes sympathetic. He was familiar with that guilt. Dreams of Washington still chased him on occasion, as did more than a handful of events since. He looked into the brunet’s eyes, saw the tears forming in them. “Honey…” his voice was soft, aching.

Tony exhaled a laugh bitterly. “And I just—I keep living. I keep surviving every stupid little mishap or every big battle. I just—it’s not fair. I-I’m still here, still _making things worse_ and t-they—they’re not—“ He paused, closing his eyes in defeat. His expression was pained, and a tear slipped down his cheek. “Everything would be better without me.”

“Don’t _ever_ say that,” Steve replied, appalled. He framed the brunet’s face in his hands, careful of his band-aids and bruises. “God, don’t—don’t ever say anything like that again. Tony I would have _nothing_ without you. You think I could take it, any of it, without you here? You think I’d be okay at all if something happened to you?” His hands shook a little at the thought, the brunet’s words bringing panic back. “I just—you scared the fuck out of me today. I thought you were gone. We’re lucky, so, so lucky. Don’t you get that?”

“I don’t deserve to be lucky,” Tony replied, reluctantly lifting his eyes. “I’m terrible. The things I’ve done…”

“Sweetheart, Ultron wasn’t your fault,” the soldier said, reading his mind. It took Steve himself a while to realize that. He was so angry at the creation of the AI, and the ensuing chaos. He knew none of that was Tony’s intention, but still felt it difficult not to place blame on the brunet. Their problems only increased after the mess in Sokovia, and the feeling of the noose closing in on all of them only got stronger each month. But a few weeks after the fact, after a conversation with Vision, it occurred to the blond that Tony and Bruce’s work wasn’t at fault. Their work was corrupted by the Mind Stone, by the very thing they now kept under their control with the help of the android.

But the damage was already done, clearly. Tony couldn’t move on from it, couldn’t forgive himself. Steve wondered how many mistakes or actions throughout his life the brunet hadn’t forgiven himself for. They must have been too many to count, and the way they haunted him was more apparent now than ever. He’d never heard Tony say anything like this, and wondered how long it had been boiling over, how many months or years the scientist lived with this self inflicted pain.

Steve frowned. How come he had never brought it up before? Couldn’t he trust Steve with his emotions, with his fears? And why couldn’t the soldier sense any of this? He blamed it on the stress. There had been less time shared between them lately, their responsibilities pulling them apart. Maybe he hadn’t been as attentive, and maybe Tony had pulled away as a result. Or maybe Tony chose to distance himself, to keep all of this turmoil quiet.

Steve could feel Tony’s body tremble against him at the mention of Ultron. It had been almost six months since the ordeal, and apparently, it hadn’t gotten any easier for the scientist. He shook his head, let out a breath to calm himself. He knew, logically, that their work was corrupted. He knew it was never supposed to be that way. That didn’t change anything. That didn’t change the fact that hundreds were dead, that the Avengers’ reputation was tarnished, that Bruce was now missing. “I still… I still feel responsible.”

“That’s good. That’s exactly what makes you a hero. You want to fix your mistakes,” Steve offered, gently stroking Tony’s cheek with his thumb. “But you can’t fix everything. It’s impossible, even for you.” Steve wished it wasn’t true though. He wished Tony could fix everything. He wished _he_ could fix everything. There were mistakes in his life that haunted him too, and he knew there wasn’t a way to fix them. “Sometimes…sometimes we just have to move on.”

Tony’s breathing quickened, like he was trying not to cry. It made Steve’s heart bleed. “I can’t,” he replied, brown eyes pleading as they looked up at Steve. “I can’t. I-I’m not…I’m not strong enough.”

“You are,” the blond said firmly. “You are. You’re the strongest person I know.”

“Not without you,” Tony retorted. His hands slipped to Steve’s waist, circled around and linked behind his back. There was urgency in his hold, and he held on tightly, as if the soldier would disappear. He was surprised he hadn’t so far. They’d been together almost two years, and by some miracle, Steve was still at his side. He was afraid more than ever of losing that, of losing everything they had.

“I’m not going anywhere,” Steve soothed, sensing his fear. “Never. I’m never leaving you.” He brushed a hand through his partner’s dark hair.

“You promise?” Tony asked softly, as if he were afraid to even pose the question. He felt guilty that he had even brought up any of this, that he had dumped it on Steve. But he couldn’t help it. His thoughts had plagued him for so long, had clawed their way out of his heart. His mishap today let the pot boil over.

“I promise,” the blond replied without hesitation. They had stuck together thus far. Nothing would pull him away from Tony. He couldn’t stand the thought of losing him, of letting him down, especially after all of this. He wished they’d had this conversation sooner, that he knew about all of this. Maybe he could’ve helped somehow. But then again, he had been reluctant to admit his own misery, always had been. Steve always pushed things down, always insisted things were okay. He hoped they could change their behavior, but he doubted it. They were both suffer in silence types, and that sort of ingrained behavior was hard to unlearn.

For now, he leaned down, pressed his lips firmly against the brunet’s. Tony was stiff for a moment, but melted into his touch, opened his mouth and let the blond kiss him softly. One of Steve’s hands settled on his back, and the other on his neck, holding him close, grounding him, and trying to express his love.

Tony’s eyes fluttered when the soldier drew back, and he let out a sigh of relief.

“I’m sorry,” he said.

Steve shook his head. “Don’t apologize. I wish you had told me all of this sooner.”

“I…I thought about it,” the brunet admitted, avoiding his gaze. “But I just couldn’t.”

“I get it. It’s not easy to admit things like that.” Steve was no stranger to being a coward when it came to his truths. There was one he had been itching to admit lately, after so long, but could never find the words for. And if Tony was doing so bad at the moment, well, there was no way Steve could casually come out and say ‘Hey! My brainwashed best friend murdered your parents!’

Maybe he would find the right time soon. He just didn’t want to hurt his boyfriend more than he was already hurting himself.

The scientist nodded in submission. He was relieved Steve understood his hesitation.

“I just want what’s best for you,” Steve said after a moment. “So will you please put the work down and come to bed?”

Tony bit his lip, glanced at the holographic screens for a moment. “…Okay,” he said softly. “Okay.”

He wanted to keep working, to make improvements, but ignoring his pain was becoming difficult. He routinely ignored pain, and sometimes, he was ashamed to admit, forwent even taking medication. The pain was a reminder of his duty, punishment for his failures. He knew it wasn’t right, knew it wasn’t healthy, but he’d been doing it most of his life. Maybe it was time to stop. He could see how hurt Steve was about all of this, how afraid he was. Maybe it was time to try and change.

Steve’s relief at his agreement was palpable, and he guided the scientist away from his desk and out of the workshop.

Once in their bedroom, he unzipped Tony’s undersuit, helped him pull his arms out. It was slow going, as stiffness was starting to seep into his limbs. The brunet winced while the garment pooled around his waist, and the blond took half a step back.

Steve inhaled sharply as he took in his partner’s form. There was a large bruise on his left side, starting near his hip and curving up his back. It was angry and purple, stood out against his tanned skin. He wasn’t sure what caused it. Part of it seemed to come from a bar, maybe a crossbeam of the building that collapsed near them. There were two or three smaller bruises dug into his skin—one on his thigh, and one on his arm. They seemed more likely to be from the rubble.

“Jesus Tony…”

“I know,” the brunet replied, grimacing. His shoulders slumped in shame. “I just… I didn’t want their hands all over me.” He’d been in hospitals so many times before, but nowadays, the thought of a stranger, even one with good intentions, touching him was enough to make his skin crawl. He would deal with the pain himself. It was hard to trust those outside the team.

Steve gently placed a hand on his shoulder. “Go sit on the bed.” He didn’t want Tony trying to bend down to pull off the rest of his suit.

The scientist did as told for once, and slowly sank onto the edge of the bed, sighing softly.

The blond moved forward and kneeled down before him, pulled the garment down below his hips with a little help from Tony, and tugged the rest of it off.

He looked up at Tony for a moment, relieved that he had the opportunity to do so. They had made it through another day, another mission. Tony didn’t look happy right now, but things could be a lot worse. Steve was sure he would have trouble sleeping tonight, still struggled to wipe the fall from his memory.

He put a hand on the brunet’s knee. “I have to shower. I can run you a bath, though. Do you want it now or later?”

Tony pursed his lips, thought it over for a second, looking down at his hands. “Now is better. Can you lay with me after?” he asked.

Steve smiled a little. “Yeah. I can do that.” He stood up, stretched out his back. He was feeling a little achy himself, had some sore spots of his own to contend with. He didn’t think about them until now though, so preoccupied with Tony’s injuries. Getting cleaned up and laying down to rest would do them both good. Maybe he would do something special for the brunet in the next few days.

Maybe they could have another, longer conversation, and he could finally admit the secret that had plagued his mind since he’d moved into the Tower. Maybe things would get better, for all of them. He dared to hope.

Tony reached out, let his fingertips touch the blond’s hip. “Thank you,” he said. “For everything. I don’t say it enough.” He felt that was true. They had sort of taken each other for granted lately, and he hoped it wouldn’t stay that way. He was sick of it all getting in the way. Maybe they needed a vacation, just the two of them.

Steve understood though, knew how much he meant to Tony. He sighed softly, leaned down and pressed a kiss to the brunet’s hair.

“I love you,” the scientist muttered.

“Love you too,” the soldier replied. 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Please share your thoughts with a comment.


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